


Someday, I'll Find Peace

by sunsetking



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Body Horror, Dark, Dark Fantasy, F/M, Horror, Post S8, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-05-20 15:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19379386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetking/pseuds/sunsetking
Summary: When he faded away, Jon had hoped for peace. Instead, he was flung into a nightmare.Please read the Author's Note (the last chapter).This fic is unfinished, but an outline of what would have been the ending is included.





	1. Hope is a Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning for self-harm and torture.

They turned left, left, left, until they slowed and stopped. Then they swung right, right, right, until they slowed and stopped. And the process began again, with less energy and with a greater sense of finality. 

Tormund’s eyes pricked as he beheld Jon Snow’s feet dangling in the wind, the crow’s body swinging from a rope.

_He did himself in, that mad fucker. I thought that he was getting better, but I was wrong. Damn it all._

The free folk that had accompanied Tormund looked at the calamity before them in various states of sorrow and acceptance. It had been an open secret in the camp that King Crow was sick in his mind and heart, and had been so since he had returned from the south. While everyone was hurt to see the man who had saved them all lose the battle within himself, no one was truly surprised.

“Let’s get him down.”

With a sense of reverence, Jon Snow’s body was gently lifted by the wilding band, and Tormund himself cut the rope from the body’s neck. 

Later that night, the entire camp stood solemnly before the body and its pyre. Tormund held a torch in hand, and as the moon’s light bathed the snow, he lit the flames.

_I hope he’s at peace, wherever he is._

 

The last time Jon had been here, he had been drowned in a vast void where there was nothing. Now, he lay in a bed of blue flowers, watching the clouds rift by.

_I wanted there to be nothing. It would have been nice to fade into the blackness. This isn’t too bad, I suppose. I can try to forget ... everything._

Jon closed his eyes and relaxed his weary mind.

_It’s nice here. I can hear the ocean, the waves crashing against the beach. It smells like the sea, and like smoke with the slightest hint of sulfur._

Jon heard a rustling to his right, but he didn’t care enough to open his eyes. The rustling increased, and someone laid down in the flower bed next to him.

_By the Old and the New, will I never be able to sink into the abyss?_

“I would not let that happen. I would never let you do that to yourself.”

Jon opened his eyes and looked to his right.

The most chiseled and graceful man that Jon had ever seen lay in the grass, his form traced by the blue flowers and his black tunic. Long, smooth arms and legs connected to a slim torso, and upon that torso perched a head.

_If I were a woman, I would have flung myself at him by now._

What a head! And what a face! Lilac eyes, light in color and piercing in vision, provided windows into the flaming ice of the man’s soul. Short white hair, in delicate curls, adorned the top of the man’s head.

_He is the beauty of Valyria incarnate._

“Are you the Father or the Warrior?”

The man laughed. “As much as I may have once wished it, my child, I am no god.”

“Then who are you?”

The man propped himself on his elbows and looked intently at Jon.

“I’m your namesake, Aegon.”

Jon’s heart sunk. He turned his face away.

“Leave me alone. I’ve had enough of House Targaryen for a thousand lives.”

“And why is that? Tell me your story.”

_It’s not like I have anything else to do._

And so Aegon spoke, and Aegon listened.

Jon spoke of his upbringing, of the shame of being the sole stain on Eddard Stark’s honor. He recounted his desire to be more than that, his desire to be great, to fulfil his ambitions and climb high. 

“And I thought the Night’s Watch was the place where I could do so.”

But the Night’s Watch had proven to be a den of corruption and criminals. Still, Jon had climbed high, and he had found a mission worth dedicating his life towards. 

“The Others became an obsession for me. The Iron Throne, all the lords and ladies at each other’s throats ... they were playing the most important game of cyvasse ever, but someone was coming to knock over the board.”

Even as his family was torn to shreds, even as his own men sunk their blades into his back, he focused all his energy on facing this greatest of threats. Even as he had won back Winterfell, the blue eyes and white skin had been ever present in his mind.

“And then I met the Mother of Dragons.”

For the first time in his life, he had found love. Not the raw passion and little substance that was his time with Ygritte, but a deep connection, a feeling of being one soul in two bodies.

“We won. We beat the Others, and what was Cersei Lannister to a force that had beaten winter itself?”

But everything had fallen apart. Daenerys’s isolation and somewhat valid paranoia, coupled with Jon’s exhaustion and misplaced faith, had sent the Breaker of Chains careening into destruction.

“I killed her. I stabbed my other half and watched as the light left her eyes. Then Drogon came, and I rejoiced in the knowledge that I would join her. But, of course, that was not to be. And so I was exiled, after all I had done in the service of the ‘Realms of Men.’ I tried to move on, to accept my place in amongst the free folk. But she never left my mind, and I gave up. Do you see now, Your Grace? House Targaryen made me a kinslayer, an oathbreaker. Being a Targaryen destroyed everything I loved.”

Aegon gave Jon a long, measured look.

“No, my boy. You being craven destroyed everything you loved.”

_How dare he?_

“You know well what you should have done Aegon, Seventh of My Name.” Lilac eyes flashed with a deadly gentleness. “The Iron Throne, my life’s work, was flung into your lap. You should have seized it even though it was not your destiny, and wed your Daenerys, binding your claims and returning the dragon to its rightful place.”

“I didn’t want it –”

“So? It wasn’t your privilege to rule, it was your duty. You might have prevented the cyvasse board from being knocked over, but you lost all the same.”

Jon rose to his feet.

“Enough! Don’t you think that I’ve thought of this, Conqueror? At night, when I awoke sobbing, or in the day when the snow reminded me of her hair? If I could go back, I would rule. I would have kissed her in the crypts, or comforted her on Dragonstone. Our story would have been different.”

Aegon laid back, resting his head on the flowers.

“It’s a shame that you two managed to get so painfully close to greatness, only to fall into oblivion. Such a fate is not how I wanted House Targaryen to meet its demise.”

“I could care less about House Targaryen.”

Aegon glanced at him, and offered a slight smile.

“I can see that.”

The two Aegons laid in the grass side-by-side.

“You were right to remove Daenerys from power, my child. Never doubt that you did the right thing in that moment. Your mistake was not in killing her; it was in allowing the two of you to flounder into that position.”

“Why did it hurt so much to do the right thing? Why didn’t it leave my mind? Why couldn’t I sleep and see anything but that moment, playing out again and again and-”

Tears streamed down Jon’s face, and he wept in shuddering gasps. Aegon watched detachedly as his final descendant mourned.

When Jon regained his composure, Aegon spoke.

“It was a major mistake, you know. Conquering Westeros.”

Jon’s head snapped up, and he gaped in disbelief.

“Don’t look at me like that, Aegon the Seventh. It was. I doomed my children to fighting each other for an uncomfortable chair on the western edge of the world, when they were born to rule in the Lands of the Long Summer.”

_Valyria._

“Did you know, Jon, that Daenerys was never meant to get farther into Westeros then Dragonstone?”

_Huh?_

“She is a child of Essos, Jon. Essos nurtured her and Westeros broke her."

“What are you saying? Should she have stayed in Essos, when her family’s birthright was in Westeros?”

“She was born to play the role of conqueror. You were the builder, and together, you two were born to restore Valyria. It’s why everything happened.”

_A strange claim, Your Grace._

“Pray tell, Your Grace, are you saying that everything I did was for naught?”

“Yes.”

“And how would restoring a wasteland into something like what it was before the Doom have defeated the Others?”

“Ice melts when a flame is lit. The fire of a restored Valryia would have driven the Others back into the Land of Always Winter, where they belonged.”

Jon thought about it for a moment, and decided Aegon’s words made sense. An immense weariness settled on his shoulders.

“Why tell me this, Aegon? Daenerys is dead. I am dead. Old Valyria died with us.”

“She’s not really dead, you know.”

Jon looked at Aegon, who to his shock had a single tear running down from the corner of his eye.

“Her dragon took her to Volantis, where the Red Priests tried to revive her.”

Joy and fear burst from Jon’s chest.

“Did they succeed?”

“In a way terrible and cruel. She’s dead, Jon, but they brought back her body. No soul inhabits it though. It’s an empty shell. And because her body was brought back, her soul is unable to leave the mortal plane.”

“Did they fix it? Return her soul to her body?”

A bitter laugh broke from Aegon’s lips. 

“Why would they? The Red God’s followers have longed desired to travel into Valyria. Why would they risk losing an unresisting Valyrian body ripe with the secrets of our people?”

A thrill of horror ran over Jon’s heart.

“Speak clearly. What did they do to her?”

Aegon looked Jon directly in his eyes

“They’ve been _studying_ her, Jon. They’ve cut her living body into pieces, taking care to glean any knowledge they can from her organs, while the organs function. Her soul feels the cuts of R'hllor’s blades again and again, as her body is _studied_ like a book. I’ve watched it myself! I’ve seen my descendant’s heart dissected, her brain probed for clues on how to survive Valyria’s dangers! They’ve made a careful survey of her womb, both inside and out! And she feels all of it, stuck as she is between life and death! And when the body is stretched out over multiple tables, bones, flesh all on display, they begin the process of ensuring their subject will remain of use. They sew the body of the penultimate Targaryen back together, and her soul wails in misery! With a few sacrifices, the body is healed, ready for the next day. They won’t even let her die! Her soul is in agony, and they won’t let her die!”

Jon vomited onto the grass. _This is hell._

“This is reality, Jon. This is what your beloved is undergoing.”

Jon pulled himself together. 

“Drogon would never allow this desecration to happen!”

“Drogon was charmed by a dragonhorn plundered from Valyria the moment he landed in Volantis. He flies across Essos now, tattooed with the markings of a slave to the Red God, burning those who refuse to worship his master.”

_Daenerys, what have I done to you?_

“How... how long has this been going on?”

“Since a week after you killed her. And since then, it's been done everyday, without fail.”

_Ten years. Ten years of being chained to a life worse than death, ten years of Essos burning away._

Jon Snow wept brokenly, and this time, Aegon held him. 

“Why would you tell me this! I can’t do anything anymore! Oh Daenerys! My love!”

Aegon let Jon cry into exhaustion on his shoulder. When Aegon the Younger finally sunk into a weary silence, Aegon the Conqueror stood.

“I wish I didn’t have to tell you, Jon. You’ve suffered enough.”

Jon looked at Aegon with red-rimmed eyes. “I have doomed her to eternal agony, and there is nothing to be done. You didn’t have to tell me.”

Aegon closed his eyes. When he spoke, it was with a sense of pain.

“Jon. Who brought you back to life after your first death?”

_R’hllor._

“R’hllor is not a kind god, Jon. He demands sacrifices of fire and blood.”

“Daenerys gave him plenty of both! Why has he chosen to punish her so?”

“He isn’t punishing her. He’s punishing _you_.”

“Me? Why me?”

“You were resurrected to serve him. When it became apparent that you would not further his worship in Westeros, he entrusted you with the battle against his ancient enemy. And you failed there too, for while this wave of Others was turned back, the Great Other’s servant now resides on throne, all of Westeros in his control. It will take less than a millennia for another wave of Others to march from the North, down to feast on a Westeros crushed by the Three-Eyed Raven.”

_This is hell. This is hell._

“Was my life a failure then? A tale of tragedy that meant nothing?”

“It would be, if it was over.”

“I’m dead, Your Grace. I felt my life fade away, I know the truth.”

“Your forms -both yours and Daenerys’s- are dead in all the ways that matter. Your’s hangs from a tree beyond the Wall, and Daenerys’s body lives a life not worth living. Your souls are alive, however. And within them, however dim, the spirit of Valyria lives.”

Whispering voices filled Jon’s ears. When he looked around him, throngs of white-haired, purple-eyed children ran in the grass, ignoring him and Aegon.

Aegon looked at Jon. “Choose, child. Stay here and rest. Or go to the Red God, and beg him for mercy, for yourself and your love.”

The children ran around Jon, faster and faster, until all that could be seen of them was white blurs tinged with purple.

Jon’s choice was clear.

“I will go to the Red God. May R'hllor forgive me.”

When Jon looked at Aegon, he saw a sad smile.

“I will pray for you.”

The children burst into flames, as did the grass and sky. When Jon looked across the hellscape at Aegon, he saw a tall tower of red fire.

**_Jon Snow. I have desired to meet you for a very long time._ **

 


	2. Separation is Agony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fire burns on.

The two beings stood in a charred wasteland that for some reason felt full with a blazing energy. The dusky sky boiled with reds and oranges, and Jon felt strangely stronger, invigorated by the dry heat.

The strength left him as he observed the red bonfire before him.

_This is R’hllor._

**_You insult Him by thinking He could be contained in a single flame, little spark._ **

Jon bowed so low that his head nearly touched the ground, not willing to offend the being any further.

“I beg your forgiveness, my Lord. I know little of the Red God.”

**_And since when has ignorance been an excuse for anything? I am one of R’hllor’s avatars, a manifestation of His will. I am to Him what a drop of water is to the Sunset Sea. The Master encompasses all of us, little spark. We are but skin on the fingers of the Red Hand._ **

“I will not repeat the mistake, my Lord.” Jon hesitated, and then sunk to his hands and knees before the flames. “My Lord, I have come here to beg for mercy on the behalf-“

**_Of the Dragon Queen, no? You’re in luck, child. Our entertainment is about to begin._ **

A spark descended from the heavens, until it floated between the two beings. It expanded into a vertical ring of flame, but Jon did not see the tower of red fire on the other side when he looked through it. Instead, he peered into a black void. There was only one thing there, alone and lost in the inky black.

_What’s that?_

Deep in the void floated an amethyst orb.

**_That is Daenerys Targaryen, little spark. That is her soul, the core of her being._ **

Jon got up shakily, and stumbled towards the window into the void.

Daenerys was beautiful, even when stripped of her flesh form. The orb was in actuality a spherical cloud of rich purple gas, with a peacefully roiling surface. As it drew closer, Jon saw the glinting of myriad bubbles colored various shades of lilac on the soul’s surface. In their gleaming surfaces, images shone.

_I can see pyramids, all three dragons, my own face ... these scenes must be from her memories._

Jon reached for the cloud in the void, and his hand met a glass surface.

_It truly is a window. Daenerys, my beloved._

For an all too brief moment, Jon enjoyed the sight of Daenerys in peace.

**_And it begins._ **

The cloud lurched, and Jon gasped in alarm at the sudden, violent motion.

_No. I can’t watch this._

**_Do you want to know what part of her is being analyzed today, little spark?_ **

_No- please don’t. Please._

**_Her lungs. Today, my Master’s servants want to study the delicate structures of the Valyrian lung, structures that made living in the soot-rich air of the Peninsula possible. And so the devotees of the Red God are extracting the organ from her beating chest._ **

The cloud fluttered and beat against itself, wringing and twisting. Bubbles formed and popped at the cloud’s edges. A keening sound came from the window, its source the miserable purple mist. 

Jon felt his heart tear in sync with Daenerys’s agony. He began pounding on the magical glass keeping the two separated. He began slowly, but as the cloud spun and warped frantically, as the wails grew louder, Jon pounded harder and harder. 

**_She’s feeling the scalpels cut deep into her flesh, little spark. The tongs are coming for her; designed to break her ribs and grant the Red God’s servants access to her innermost sanctum. Can you imagine how it must feel? The pain, the ecstasy of being a slave to the glory of R’hllor?_ **

Daenerys’s soul tore at itself, and Jon began punching at the glass with all his strength, heedless of the damage done to his hands.

“Please! Stop this! She’s suffered enough!”

**_You would think that after ten years, she would become accustomed to it, but that is not the case. The Valyrian girl finds the pain fresh each time._ **

Jon roared in anguish as the cloud screamed, and slammed the window so hard that his hand broke. Blinded by the pain, both physical and in his mind, Jon continued his futile attempt to break the window and reach Daenerys. 

“O R’hllor, You’re doing this to punish me! Please, hurt me instead! She never stood in Your path, never disobeyed You!” A flash of inspiration struck him. “She burned King’s Landing! She sent half a million souls into Your halls! Surely that merits a reward!”

**_Of course it does, little spark. Watch and see what her unknowing devotion has earned her._ **

Jon stopped his attempts to reach Daenerys’s soul, letting his bloody, broken hands rest at his side, leaving streaks of ochre on the magical mirror.

Daenerys’s soul trembled and flung about, purple bubbles flowing to and fro. Sobs and screams echoed through the looking glass. Jon let the tears flow freely as he beheld the woman he loved suffer.

**_And now her lungs leave their home in her chest, for a temporary one on a table._ **

The purple cloud exploded, sending bubbles in all directions. The screaming suddenly silenced. 

**_Oh my. She’s lost her sanity again. The experience must have been too painful for a whole mind to handle._ **

Jon tore at his hair. “Enough! Enough! Let her die! Take me instead!”

**_Not yet, little spark. Watch!_ **

The bubbles were drawn back into an amethyst cloud, which spasmed and spun, but stayed in one piece. The sobs recommenced, weaker and more piteously than before.

**_There’s her reward. The Red God has healed her mind, as He has done countless times since she was revived. Such an honor, to be healed by the Lord of Light Himself!_ **

_The same being’s followers drive her to madness everyday!_

“Please, my Lord, end this! Please! I’ll do whatever it takes-”

Jon howled as Daenerys’s soul exploded again.

**_Ah, my Lord’s followers have begun to expand the scope of their research for today. Perhaps the mysteries of consuming Valyrian air have driven them to dissect her throat, her mouth, her nose._ **

Moments later, the cloud was brought back into one.

**_And she’s back!_ **

Jon slumped to the ground, numb to the world. All he could focus on was the wails from the other side of the looking glass.

**_Do you want to know what they’re doing to her now?_ **

Jon shook his head. 

“Please, tell me how to end this.”

**_All in time, little spark._ **

Daenerys’s soul shattered yet again.

_He won’t grant her escape from the pain, not even in the form of madness._

The process repeated again and again, with Daenerys forcibly returning to sanity each time at the behest of the Red God. Jon watched numbly.

Finally, mercifully, it ended. The purple cloud returned to its peaceful orb-like appearance as the day’s atrocities ended. The sobs quieted and after what seemed like forever, stopped.

**_Rest, daughter. Tomorrow this process begins again._ **

_Why hurt her so much? I’m the one who failed the Red God._

**_We want you to suffer, Jon. And We know you don’t value your own life, not after what you did. So We’re hurting the one person in Our grasp that you love._ **

_That is wrong. That is so wrong._

**_It’s what you deserve._ **

“It’s not what _she_ deserves! She deserves peace!”

**_She failed us too, by not cleansing more souls with dragon fire._ **

The window ringed by fire swam for a moment, and when the scene it depicted sharpened, Jon groaned.

_Drogon._

The dragon was in a horrible state. One of its eyes was blinded, and the length of the beast was covered in carvings etched deep into its scales, scales covered in places by metal plates inscribed with prayers to the Red God. It struggled to fly on wings wounded and uncared for. But worst of all was its head. 

_They’ve rammed stakes of oily black stone deep into the top of Drogon’s head. Good heavens. I can see how deep they go into his skull; the stakes are covered in blood, shards of bone, and brain._

**_The stone helps the forces of the Lord of Light control the beast._ **

Jon watched as Drogon roared over a city in the Great Grass Sea.

_Daenerys told me about this place. Vaes Dothrak._

Flames issued from Drogon’s mouth, burning away at the great city of Daenerys’s beloved Dothraki. An army bearing red banners emblazoned with a flaming heart marched closer, a dragon horn blowing away in the distance.

_What did we do, Daenerys? What nightmare have we unleashed on the world?_

**_Even now, her son serves us. His mother serves us in her own way, albeit unwilling._ **

Jon collapsed into the dirt, his head spinning.

_Why this? You cannot blame this crusade on my failures._

**_In a way, the Red God can. Had you fulfilled your mission, the Great Other would still be languishing beyond the Wall, and R’hllor would have tolerated dissenting faiths. Now that the Great Other has won a continent, Our forces have no choice but to conquer one of Our own._ **

_Essos._

**_From Braavos to Asshai, the banner of the Red God unfurls. Thousands learn of the cleansing touch of His flames everyday, and thousands more choose to flock to His side, fearing His wrath._ **

_I doomed two continents to ruin._

**_And your beloved Daenerys as well._ **

Jon nodded, and broke into sobs.

“Please.” 

_I have to convince him to let Daenerys die. Where begging failed, submission may succeed._

“Is R’hllor not in some way my father?”

**_All Valyrians have had their blood touched at some point in their ancestry by the hands of the Red God, yes. And you are a man resecurrected; you are tied to Him._ **

“I have sinned, I know. And it is a father’s right and duty to discipline a wayward child. But when the child has learnt its lesson, when its punishment has made its point, is that not enough? What father would continue the discipline past that?”

**_Have you learned your lesson, wayward son?_ **

_I have. I have._

“Please, let her rest. Let her be free.”

**_Who do you belong to?_ **

“The Red God.” At this point, Jon was willing to say and swear nearly anything, if it meant Daenerys would be freed of life’s shackles.

**_Who does Daenerys Targaryen belong to?_ **

Jon knew what was the correct answer, as wrong as it was.

“She too is the Red God’s.”

**_And can He not treat His slaves the way He wishes, regardless of what you desire?_ **

_No! We aren’t slaves-_

The fire was displeased by Jon’s thoughts. Two blasts of red flames raced out from the bonfire, ramming into Jon’s beaten hands. The last Targaryen screamed as his skin melted and his flesh bubbled. 

**_Can He not treat His slaves the way he wishes, regardless of what you desire?_ **

Sobbing, Jon nodded. 

**_Say it._ **

Jon schooled his face, tears still streaming, blood dripping from his ruined hands.

_No._

“No. I won’t. Daenerys isn’t a slave; she broke chains. She was never bound by them.”

**_Is that still true, I wonder?_ **

A huge fiery fist emerged from the bonfire, and a long, flaming chain descended from the heavens. The hand pulled on the chain, and for a moment nothing happened.

And then, with a wet thud, Daenerys Targaryen’s body fell from the sky, landing on the ground in a heap.

**_The faithful devotees of Volantis won’t be missing this slab of meat for long._ **

Jon slowly walked to his beloved’s body. He knelt next to it, gently placing her head in his lap, crooning to it softly.

“It’s me, Daenerys. You’re safe with me.”

If Drogon has been tormented by the crude stake, Daenerys had been subjected to the finest and cruelest of scalpels. Fine stitches covered her face, arms and chest.

_Cuts along her eyes, across her cheeks, along her nose, through her neck... my love. What have they done to you? Seven hells, they’ve torn your breasts to pieces. They’ve opened your chest in a dozen places, down a dozen orderly lines._

As Jon looked further down, he realized the stitches continued down her torso and legs, crisscrossing one another in delicate and complex patterns. The body was resting through a hellish sleep: an empty husk where a brilliant woman had once lived.

**_Fear not, Jon Snow. The stitches disappear overnight, leaving a fully healed, perfect body ready for the day’s activities._ **

Jon didn’t respond, and hugged Daenerys’s limp form.

_This isn’t Daenerys, not really. This is the mortal coil I made love to, the one that I held in my arms. This is the mortal coil I killed. But Daenerys survived that. This is now her prison, the chain binding her to mortal misery._

The chain connected to the body’s ankle grew taut, and the fire dragged the body towards it. Jon pulled, but the fiery hand made a mockery of his efforts.

“No! You can’t have her!”

**_She is already Ours, little spark. She serves Us even in living death. Is she not R’hllor’s slave, in the deepest way possible?_ **

Jon thought quickly. _I must abide by his words; Daenerys and I are both in his thrall._

“A master need not be cruel to his slaves.”

**_He need not be kind._ **

The body was roughly pulled across the ground. When it reached the avatar, it took flight. Floating upward, like a kite, the living corpse disappeared among the flaming clouds.

_It returns to Volantis._

**_Now tell me, little spark: why should the Red God reward two slaves when one of them disobeyed Him, and the second floundered in accomplishing her destiny?_ **

_R’hllor will not let us either of us go. Daenerys and I both are in his grasp; there will be no escape._ Horror seeped into Jon’s heart. _Even a true death may not free her from pain; my hands are proof enough of that truth. There is no path left that keeps the Breaker of Chains a free woman. There is no path of freedom for me, either._

**_You are correct, little spark. Rejoice._ **

_Not even my mind is private anymore. There is no choice._

Jon’s voice was dead, and no light gleamed in his eyes as he settled on what he had to do.

“Daenerys and I are slaves of the Red God. He does with us as He pleases.”

**_And now you have begun to understand, little spark. Accept it. Welcome the Red Flame into your heart. Sell yourself to the all-welcoming Flames. Sell your beloved to the Flames. Free her of the agony she lives in._ **

_Do you promise that she will not suffer any longer?_

**_No. You can give the both of you eternal freedom and misery, or eternal servitude and bliss. For you two will suffer for R’hllor. But you will love it, for suffering for the glory of Red God is a reward._ **

Tears flowed from Jon’s eyes, and when he spoke, it was the voice of a broken man.

“I will not fight a battle I cannot win. We are His.”

From the fiery window issued a hot wind, and slowly, painfully, the purple mist that was Daenerys Targaryen seeped into the hell where Jon stood.

**_R’hllor is a merciful god. He rewards your good behavior._ **

Misery turned to a bitter joy as Jon realized what was happening.

“Daenerys!”

The purple mist rushed to Jon, as if it were blown towards him by a wind.

In far-away Volantis, Red Priests panicked and prayed as their research subject died, despite their efforts to save it.

The mist clung to Jon, seeping into his skin.

_Jon! Jon!_

_Daenerys?_

_Jon! Is this real?_

_Yes! Oh Daenerys! What have we become?_

Jon heard nothing but relieved sobs echoing through his mind as Daenerys’s soul surrounded him.

**_Love pleases the Red One, but you two have a debt of service to pay._ **

_This avatar is a monster. I cannot guarantee our safety or sanity. I have already bartered away our freedom. But know this Daenerys: I love you, despite all that has happened._

To Jon’s anguish, nothing but sobbing came in reply from the amethyst mist.

**_Come, my daughter, do not weep. Rejoice, for your beloved has freed you of the burden of “freedom”, and the two of you will ascend to fulfill your purpose as servants of R’hllor._ **

The mist curled around Jon tighter, and he felt faint. Red flames surrounded the two of them, and Jon could see nothing beyond the fire.

_I killed myself because I wanted to rest. I wanted to be free._

**_And you and your Daenerys from now on will never be._ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I look forward to reading your comments.


	3. Change is Cursed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Red God gives his creatures gifts and a job.

Daenerys’s soul burrowed into Jon’s skin, trying desperately to hide from the painful world she found herself in. Jon wrapped his arms protectively around the amethyst cloud, letting it seep past his clothes and rest on his skin. It felt hot, but a different kind of warmth from the one that the wasteland exhuded. Instead, it was the comfort of a blanket in the winter, of Daenerys’s hands upon his forehead.

_ Jon...Jon. _ Daenerys repeated his name like it was a prayer, her chanting reverberating through his mind.

**_You thought she would reject you, little spark. You thought she would feel betrayed. Is it not a relief to you, then, that she begs you for comfort, that she is curled up in your arms?_ **

_ No. No it’s not. Not like this. She hasn’t forgiven me, nor should she. Daenerys only clings to me because everything else here is worse. _

**_Or perhaps you are a chivalrous child, concerned for your beloved’s modesty._ **

_ What does that mean? _

**_Ah! A gentleman! Fret not, little spark. I’ll clothe your lady in a physical body, and grace her naked form with dignity. Would you like to see what beautiful flesh she could be housed in?_ **

The flaming window glowed, and Jon looked upon a city. It was a coastal metropolis, and as the picture sharpened, Jon realized where it was.

_ Braavos. _

 

The city’s Titan was in ruins. In books and through stories, Jon had learned of the giant statue, which stood guard above the sea-entrance to the city and held a mighty stone sword aloft. Now, the Titan’s face was fused and waxy, a victim of dragonfire. The arm that used to hold the giant stone sword was shattered halfway up, and at its end burned a gigantic red bonfire. The statue leaned dangerously over the harbor, and it was clear Drogon had ravaged it.

**_A monument to R’hllor, little sparks. The Braavosi foolishly wept at its conversion, but now they rejoice in the knowledge that it serves as a servant of the Lord. But it is not what I wish to show you._ **

As if the window rode on the back of a dragon, its view flew through the air.

_ Is this place another victim of our failures, Daenerys? _

Fires burned across the city, and the air above was choked with smoke. As the window neared ground level, Jon noticed people trying to go about their business, underneath the banners bearing the Red Heart. In the background, Jon could hear chanting and the crackle of flames.

**_Here we are!_ **

Before them stood a giant hall. Upon entering it, the window revealed a scene that made Jon heave.

_ By the Flames! _

The hall was as long as Winterfell’s great hall, and it was filled with lines of beds. 

People lay on the beds, some moaning in agony, some lying unconscious. Still others raved madly. Most patients were accompanied by family, but some suffered alone. But what had horrified Jon was what they were afflicted with.

**_A group diverse and complex, no? The Lord of Light understands the beauty of complexity and differences, little sparks. He accepts rich and poor, man and woman, young and old. He has fostered diversity among His children._ **

_ This is not what diversity is. This is cruel. _

Every patient suffered from mutations, from a warping of flesh. Some only endured minor changes, while others seemed more beast than human. Jon saw wings, claws, feathers, extra and missing limbs, eyes, and faces. The more he looked, the more wild and extreme the mutations seemed. The cacophony of groans, whimpers, and sobs made it clear no one wanted this.

**_Are they not lucky to be blessed with forms that fit the Red God’s whims? Forms that He crafts, and they, like the spoiled children they are, enjoy without thanking Him?_ **

Daenerys spoke through her thoughts.

_ When did this begin, my Lord? _

**_It began shortly after your resurrection, little spark. It seems that with the ascension of the Great Other over most of Westeros, the Red God is free to bless the humans of Essos with His gifts, mutations being one of His favorites. But don’t be jealous! Come, Daenerys. I will make you a beautiful body so that you too will be able to enjoy the pleasure of being truly alive!_ **

Daenerys’s soul was wrenched from Jon’s grasp by a hot, dry wind. Jon tried to grab at the purple mist, his hands screaming in protest.

_ No. No! Jon, help me, please! I’m sorry for everything, just help me now, for the sake of what we once had! _

“Please, my Lord! Stop!”

_ I love you! I’ve forgiven you countless times! _

**_Do you want your love to have dragon wings, little spark? Or perhaps you are fond of insects, and want Daenerys’s face to be adorned with mandibles and antennae._ **

_ How do I play this game? I don’t doubt that the avatar would warp her features to fit his desires. How can I prevent it? _

**_You know how, little spark. Who does she belong to?_ **

_ The Red God! I am the Red God’s! _

Daenerys’s wails echoed in the wasteland’s dry air.

_ Daenerys, what have they done to you? _ Tears brimming, Jon reaffirmed Daenerys’s screams.

“You heard her, my Lord. She- she is the Red God’s.”

**_And should He bless her with a physical form, she will accept it with love and joy. Especially if it bears gifts of improvements to the human form._ **

There was nothing spoken or thought for a while. The only sounds that could be heard were Daenerys’s terrified, exhausted sobs. Finally, the avatar spoke.

**_Pray to R’hllor, little sparks. Both of you. Pray for a flesh body for Daenerys Targaryen to inhabit. Pray._ **

_ Why? Why won’t you let us rest? We’re dead! Daenerys and I are dead! She has no use for a flesh body!  _

**_You two are still useful to the Red God._ **

_ We’re dead! _

**_Not even in death does servitude end. This is only the start of your journey, the beginning of your blessings._ **

_ Jon. _

_ Daenerys, no! I won’t do it! _

_ Jon. Please. _

_ No! No! No! You deserved better! I’m sorry this is happening! _

_ Jon. Spare yourself from additional agony. R’hllor- _

**_Your Master._ **

_ Our Master will do as His will wishes. If we pray for His forgiveness, perhaps He will be merciful to me. To us. _

Jon wept, the pain in his heart throbbing in sync with the pain climbing up from his hands.

_ If this is the role we must play, then I will play it well, for Daenerys’s sake. _

“We will pray, my Lord. But I know not the words.”

**_Your soul belongs to the Red God, little spark. He will understand you, no matter what you say._ **

And so the last Targaryens prayed, two streams of thought melding into one. Jon prayed for mercy, for an end to the pain. 

Daenerys prayed for death.

The Red One heard, and the Red One answered.

The purple cloud that was the woman Jon loved coalesced into a body. For a moment, Jon feared he would behold some demonic perversion of the Dragon Queen.

For a moment, he relaxed, as a woman’s shape became clear.

Daenerys Targaryen was much as he had last seen her. Amethyst eyes, white hair, a beautiful face on a shapely head atop a comely, unclothed body that for the briefest instant seemed exactly as Jon remembered it. 

_ She looks at peace. Her brow is unworried, a smile graces her lips- _

And then he saw it.

_ Oh, my poor Daenerys. _

The woman’s left arm was gone, and in its place was a tentacle that reached to her thigh, adorned with circular white suckers along its length where the inside of Daenerys’s arm should have been. Tanned skin was gone, replaced with angry red. The organ dripped mucus, and began to chap and dry in the wasteland’s heat.

**_Your love is a lucky woman! Not many are blessed with flesh in the style of the Krakens of the Red God!_ **

Daenerys’s eyes snapped open.

“Daenerys!”

The Targaryen gasped for breath, clutching at her bare chest, a chest that to Jon’s twisted joy carried no stab wound.

**_Welcome to the world, little one! Welcome! Welcome!_ **

Daenerys looked down at her hand and appendage, and screamed, a shocked, horrified sound. She grabbed her tentacle roughly with her hand, feeling it to check and see if her eyes saw true. Her eyes widened as reality became clear, and she rocked back and forth.

Jon charged for Daenerys, and upon reaching her, wrapped her in his arms. Daenerys buried her head in his chest, weeping in pain and in relief.

**_And my part here is done, little sparks! You are both ready!_ **

The window grew larger and larger, and soon all the two Targaryens could see was the steaming water at the foot of the Flaming Titan.

_ Ready? Ready for what? What more must we endure? _

**_You two failed in achieving your destinies, and the Red God has found it fit to strip them from you. You two have a new destiny, little sparks. See that this time, you do not fail._ **

The window moved suddenly from its vertical position, and when it stilled, it formed a circle underneath Jon and Daenerys. A tinkling sound echoed around them.

_ No. _ Jon realized what was going to happen.

“No!” Daenerys screamed.

**_Yes._ **

The glass broke, and the two Targaryens fell back into the mortal world, and into the boiling waters of the ruined Braavosi harbor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-S8 Jonerys fics have to answer the question of how Jon and Dany come to terms with what happened. I've seen many awesome ways this is addressed. My solution was to torment Dany to the point that what Jon did seems like nothing at all, so that when they reunited, he might as well have been an angel. The two have been subjected to quite a rough treatment in the last three chapters. I think they've earned some time to catch their breath, don't you? As I said in to a commenter, this fic will see Jon and Dany get the "ending they deserved", but in the most brutal way possible.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and I look forward to your comments!


	4. The Healing Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys and Jon leave the Red God's hands for now. But monsters are not always so clearly identified.

When Jon awoke, he jerked from the bed he rested on with a start.

“Easy, boy! Easy!”

Jon looked around wildly, only calming when his eyes landed on the woman resting at his side.

_ She’s alive. _

Daenerys was curled into his left side, moving slightly in her sleep. Sweat beaded on her temple, and her cheeks glittered with sweat and dried tears. A white sheet was wrapped around her torso, presumably to preserve her modesty.

The elderly man who had hissed at him sat on a stool next to the Valryrian woman. 

_ What’s he done to her...arm? _

The tentacle was wrapped in wet bandages, from where it met Daenerys’s torso downwards. Steam rose from the appendage.

“Don’t worry, lad. It’s for her own good. Those ... blessed with Changes that mimic creatures of the sea fare better when the affected flesh is kept wet.”

_ That makes sense to me. _

The man reached behind him, and wordlessly handed Jon a plate of bread and salt. Jon dipped a chunk of bread in the salt, and woodenly chewed and swallowed.

_ Guest right should keep the both of us safe. _

Jon looked at Daenerys again. 

_ She’s been through so much. It’s cruel, forcing her to return to life. _

However, much to Jon’s shame, he felt a selfish joy at seeing Daenerys alive.

_ It doesn’t erase our sins, but still. Daenerys lives once more, as do I. There may be hope for us in this hell. _

The memory of the cruel being that had shoved the two back into the mortal plane surged through him, and Jon grimaced.

_ Perhaps not. _

“Are you two married?”

Jon’s thoughts were dispelled by the man’s question.

_ It’s best to be honest. I don’t know if he’ll question Daenerys when she’ll awaken, and our stories better match. _

“No.”

At the man’s questioning look, Jon added, “But we intend to wed. As soon as possible.”

_ At this point, I’ll tie myself to you whether you want it or not, Daenerys. Call it selfish, for it is. But it’s how I feel. _

The man nodded. “Best do it quickly, then. An unwed, young woman adorned with Changed flesh is exactly the type of person that the Halls of Life look for.” He furrowed his brow and gave Jon a judging glance.

“You don’t need me to tell you that what you’re doing is highly dangerous. It’s not my place to upbraid you, but if you love her, then tie her to safety at the first opportunity you have.”

Jon felt a sense of unease.

“What are the Halls of Life?”

The man gave Jon a stunned look, and as Jon looked back at him in confusion, an angry grief settled over his aged features.

“Are your wits addled? Or are you so blessed by the Red Lord that the suffering of our people has not touched you? Do not jape about this, boy. Ask someone else about what the white-and-red sailboats have taken from us. I’ll say no more.”

Jon held out his hands in a conciliatory gesture, looking at them as did so.

_ He’s bandaged them up, I see. _

“I’m truly sorry. I meant no offense.”

“Do not mention it again.”

Jon fell silent, letting his eyes drift back to Daenerys’s sleeping form. Heedless of the pain in his hands, he let a bandaged finger trace a pattern on Daenerys’s forehead. Sensing his presence was unwanted, the old man left. Jon pressed his lips to Daenerys’s forehead.

_ No matter what, we’re together. That’s all that matters. _

Gently wrapping her in his arms, Jon fell asleep.

 

“How much for the girl?”

Jon awoke late at night, Daenerys quietly looking at him in the dark. A cold weight had settled around his feet, but Jon was for a brief moment filled with a warm light.

_ Daenerys! My- what did I hear? _

Both lay awake in bed, listening to the conversation occurring on the other side of the door.

“She’s not for sale. Not as a single item, at least.”

Daenerys gripped Jon’s hands tightly. Had he been less worried about the words he was hearing, he would have screamed at the sharp pain that raced up his arm.

Daenerys looked at herself, and as her eyes reached the bottom of the bed, they widened. She shook Jon’s arm, but he was entirely focused on the voices speaking.

“Come, now. Don’t tell me that you’ve grown soft.”

“It’s not a question of being soft. I can get a higher price for a couple than I can for just the girl, even if she is a Changed One.”

“Lys would give us a good price for her-” “I have told you, I will not condemn another soul to that place-” “Yes, because you’re soft-”

Daenerys grew more insistent as she shook Jon’s arms and pointed down. Jon ignored her, his mind seething.

_ How dare he! He offered us guest right, and now he aims to make us slaves? _

“You’ve seen what they do on that accursed isle. I won’t have any of my products shipped there, understood?”

“Fine. Where to, then?”

“First, they need to heal. The woman has Changed only recently, and a slave ship is no place to recover from that process.”

“And then? Where to then?”

“Jon!” Daenerys hissed, and Jon finally looked down.

_ Damn it. _

The couple was chained together at the legs, and the iron links wrapped about their limbs in dizzying knots. The chain went on and on, until it reached the floor, where it was secured in a round link welded to the ground. Jon began to quietly move his legs, but the chains were too tight to offer much freedom.

“The City by the Shadow.”

A gurgled laugh broke out. “You sick bastard! How’s that better than the Halls of Life?”

“I can tell these two would die of heartbreak if separated, and I’ve already had enough deaths in this business. No one buys cattle from a cowherd who can’t keep them healthy.”

_ Damn you! Damn you! We’re people, you monster! People! _

“The Asshai’i could care less if their playthings come to that oily shore alive or dead, my friend.”

“You’ve seen the girl. We know damned well they’ll want her alive. A Valyrian is worth a kingdom’s ransom, now that the Targaryens are gone.”

Daenerys was breathing heavily now, tears spilling from her eyes. The silver-haired woman shoved her hand into her mouth to stifle a sob. Jon pulled her against him, covering her ears with his hands.

_ Don’t listen. Please, don’t listen. _

“Aye.” There was a brief pause. “Very well. How long will you keep them?”

“Oh, three days or so. Just long enough to get them to enough health to make it to Asshai, and to marry them off. You know how the shadowbinders like having such bonds to bend and break.”

“That’s cutting it close, old friend. That woman will be dead of infection by the time her hearse arrives at Asshai’s docks.” “I don’t fancy being around the Westerosi when his hands heal. Do you?”

“True. Better them dead then us.”

“I agree.”

 A pause. “They’re awake, you know.”

Daenerys and Jon froze.

“Good. I hate seeing the look on people’s faces when they realize why I take the time to heal them. Better that they figure it out like this.”

“I’ll leave it to you then. See you, my friend.”

“Aye. Blessed are the Flames of the Red God.”

“Blessed are the Flames of the Red God.”

The door opened.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I look forward to your comments.


	5. The Queen's Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys talks, and Jon listens.

“You monster.”

“Am I a monster?”

“Yes! How could you offer us guest right and then break-”

The man’s eyes flared. “Do not try me, boy. I could send you to the City by the Shadow and sell your beloved to Volantis. How do you think she’d endure, separated from you by thousands of-”

Daenerys broke into the conversation. “Please, forgive us. It’s just that-”

As Daenerys soothed the slaver, Jon seethed.

_ ‘Forgive us?’ For what? For trying to salvage our lives? For not wanting to be chained here, and for fearing being sold to far-flung Asshai? _

“Learn something from your woman, boy. See that when I come to you two again, your attitude befits your station.”

The door slammed shut, and after the sounds of it locking ended, the two Targaryens were surrounded in dark silence.

“Jon, calm yourself-”

“Calm myself? He’s a slaver! He’s trapped us-”

“And we need to play along with it, for now!”

Jon studied Daenerys’s face as well as he could in the dark.

“Jon, you’ve spent your entire life in Westeros. You’ve never had to deal with slavers and their ilk. I spent years in Slaver’s Bay. I know how slaves must act to survive. Trust me. We will not lose our freedom so easily, but for now, we must play his game.”

Jon and Daenerys lay in the beds, legs bound together with iron links.

“It’s so dark, Jon. I can’t see a thing.”

“I know.”

Daenerys’s voice trembled.

“Jon?”

“Yes?”

“I think I’m scared of the dark.”

_ After what they did to you when you were stuck in the darkness, I don’t blame you. _

Jon reached for Daenerys in the dark, carefully pulling her in an embrace. Words spilled from her throat.

“When you killed me-“

Jon squeezed Daenerys’s form as hot tears filled his eyes. She slipped her remaining hand into one of his, and patiently waited for him to calm down. As his tears slowed, Daenerys lifted his bandaged hand to her lips, kissing it gently before lowering it carefully to the bed.

“I have to tell you this.”

“Why? Let the past be the past.”

“Not sharing with one another, keeping our thoughts to ourselves- these things doomed us, Jon. Our inability to truly speak to one another is the reason we’re here. You don’t have to listen, but I will speak.” She paused. “Soon, we will both be robbed of the right to speak when we wish. Do not take it from me now.”

“I am listening, Daenerys.”

“When you killed me, I didn’t understand what had happened. One moment, I was offering everything I had to the man I love, and the next I was on Dragonstone.”

_ That was where I too awoke, when the noose did its job. _

“I was broken when I realized what you had done to me, Jon. I was so hurt.”

The form in his arms shook, and Jon found himself blubbering.

“I had to, Daenerys- you-you-”

“I did something horrible, Jon; I know that all too well. The Red One took a particularly savage pleasure in teaching His daughter the error of her ways. I agree with you: I deserved to die for what I did. But why you?”

_ What? _

“Why not any random Northman? Why not Arya? Why did you have to be the one to drive the blade home?”

“I don’t know. Tyrion thought only I could get close enough.”

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter. But I would have preferred being crucified to being betrayed so utterly.”

Jon stifled a sob, and in the dark, Daenerys’s hand cupped his cheek.

“It’s okay, Jon. I know it hurt you too.”

When Jon calmed himself, Daenerys continued.

“But my anger only lasted so long. How could it? For on that isle, my family awaited me.”

_ Aegon was the only one there when I arrived. _

“My Mother and Rhaegar were there to comfort me, to tell me that they were proud of me, no matter what I had done. My Father and Viserys were there as well - healed in the heart and mind. They understood, they didn’t judge, they knew how it felt when the dragon awoke. They listened. I was home, and I was happy.”

Daenerys fell silent for a while, and when she spoke again, it was with a weary voice.

“They knew what was coming, I suppose. For the happiest week of my existence, they comforted me, wiped away my tears and filled me with joy. But when they thought I wasn’t looking, they were sorrowful.”

Daenerys wipes at her face, and resumed.

“One day, they gathered to bid me farewell. I did not understand; where would I go now that my body was food for worms? They ignored my confusion, my pleading for an explanation. Mother held me, and told me that she was sorry for all I had endured. Rhaegar asked me to forgive you for what you had done, and to tell you that he loves you. Father wept, and said he was sorry that he had led our House to ruin. Viserys was there too, there to kiss my brow and thank me for honoring his memory with Viserion.”

_ And then- _

“I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, everything was gone. I was a formless being adrift a black void, with no one and nothing. I was alone.”

Daenerys’s voice shook.

“And then it began, Jon. I felt my body, although I could not see it. I felt the scalpels, the tongs, the hammers- I screamed and screamed and screamed and-”

Daenerys was shaking and sobbing now and Jon was the one who had to be strong, the one who had whisper sweet nothings into her eyes and rock her body in his arms.

When Daenerys gathered herself, she resumed.

“I had thought your blade was the most painful thing I would ever feel. I was so very wrong.”

Jon pulled her closer, and Daenerys buried her head into his chest.

“How much is there is to study in a single body, Jon? How much did they learn, opening me up day after day? Was it all necessary? A month of it, even a single year- that I can understand. But year after year?”

_ A day was too much, Daenerys. _

“I began pleading with the Gods, one after another. For an eternity, no one answered. I was alone.”

_ I wish I had been there for you. I’m sorry. _

“I was alone, Jon! The only thing that kept me going was the memory of my family and of us. I wanted to fade into nothingness, to leave the pain behind. And when the blades finally blessed me with madness, I rejoiced. But the Red One did not let me go.”

“How?”

“He came to me, Jon, in the form of an avatar. An avatar far mightier than the one you saw.” 

Daenerys’s voice shook.

“The day’s vivisection was done. I was crying. He came into my head, and he pierced my mind. I was powerless to resist Him, Jon. He probed and studied it, admiring my thoughts and playing with my memories. He took great pleasure in soaking in my agony and misery; pain is pleasing to the Red One.”

Jon felt ill.  _ He violated you, Daenerys. Not physically, as His followers did, but in a manner just as wrong. _

“He told me I had been a good girl; I had pleased Him greatly by feeding Him a half-million souls. He asked me if I wanted a reward.”

“What did you say?”

“What I wanted was irrelevant. You remember the avatar who restored us to life. You remember his presence.”

_ How could I forget? _ Jon’s mind was filled with the memory of the red fire, the urge to submit to the flames, and the wrath he suffered when he displeased it.

“This servant of the Red One was far, far, more. He drowned me in his essence, until I could no longer think, until I no longer existed as an entity of my own. Then, as if I was a puppet, He spoke through me.”

_ He was playing with her, like she was a toy.  _

Jon remembered Melisandre, the Red Woman, who, whatever she had done, had truly believed in the goodness of the Red God.

_ Did you know, my lady? _

“And when I gave Him His answer, He was pleased. And He promised me, ‘His most precious daughter’, that I would see you again.”

_ Why would the Red God want to reunite us? _

“He came every so often afterwards. At first he took little from me, but as time progressed, he had me recite prayers to the Red One, and made me sing His praises into the void.”

“Why did you? After all He put you through-”

“He promised me, Jon. He promised me that the pain would end, that I would find my way back to you.” Daenerys swallowed. “He promised me that He wouldn’t leave me alone, that He would return, if I was good and I recited my prayers. I obeyed.”

_ What was the point of that game? What could the Red God want with the prayers of a dead woman? _

“And can I complain? I deserved it, I decided. I deserve to suffer, to suffer for what I had done to King’s Landing. So I began to look to the vivisections as a form of penance, to find some justice in what was happening.”

“Did it make it more bearable?”

“No. But it pleased the Red One to see me drown in shame and guilt, so I continued.”

_ Daenerys. _

Jon felt an immense weariness as Daenerys revealed what she had been through. 

_ I-I- _

There was nothing to say, nothing to think. Jon pressed his lips to hers, and when they two separated, tears ran down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. It’s no small burden, killing the woman you love. I’m sorry I put you in that position. It takes a cruel person to drive a man to murder.”

Jon shook his head. 

_ It takes a crueler person to carry it out. _

“Daenerys, we cannot walk in circles like this. We must move on, broken as we are. And we are quite broken, in both body and mind. But we must endure.”

“Yes. Tomorrow we plan for the future.”

Daenerys curled around Jon’s form.

“Tonight, we rest.”

The two drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to be on a roll with this fic. Thanks for reading, and I look forward to reading your comments.


	6. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys dances to the tune of her past.

It was hot, too hot. 

Daenerys looked around, and found herself in the throne room in the ruins of King’s Landing.

_ No. Nononono- _

She sprinted away from the metal monster had consumed her, the throne that was the hub of the great wheel that had broken her. 

The ground opened under her feet, and Daenerys fell. When she got up, she stood at the bottom of a deep pit. For a moment, all was silent.

Then the clouds rumbled. Daenerys closed her eyes.

_ It’s going to snow. _

The sound of water pattering on the ground filled the air.

A hot drop landed on her forehead, and Daenerys opened her eyes in shock.

It was raining.

_ But it’s raining blood. _

The red liquid poured down in sheets from the sky, coating everything in a thick sticky sheen. Daenerys slumped to the ground, and as she did, she noticed that she possessed two hands.

As Daenerys watched the blood slowly pool at her feet, a deep shame welled in her.

_ I burned King’s Landing. This blood is the same blood I spilled, in a fit of madness. _

As the red rains soaked Daenerys in ochre, the once-mighty Queen rested her head against the slippery side of the pit.

_ Why, my mind? Why show me this? What’s the point? I can’t take it back, no matter how much I want to. Let me try and move on. _

Immediately, a guilty voice rose in her head.

_ The people you killed won’t get to move on, you monster. Why should you? _

The downpour went on. To Daenerys’s alarm, the blood at her feet was rising.

_ I need to get out of this hole. _

But when her hands tried to gain purchase on the pit’s side, they slipped.

Daenerys tried again, and again her hands couldn’t grasp the slippery surface. The bloody rain began to come down faster and faster.

She wiped at her face, but the blood kept getting in her eyes. Half blinded by the sticky red, Daenerys’s attempts to climb grew more frantic, to no avail. When the blood has risen to her knees, she gave up.

_ This isn’t working.  _

The blood rose further, until it was halfway up the Targaryen’s thighs. Blood streaked down her face, dripping from her chin, leaving sticky red tracks on the woman's face. It ran through Daenerys’s hair, lending the white braids a red tint. And no matter how much Daenerys wiped her eyes, the blood kept coming into them, marring her vision.

Tears of frustration and fear joined those of blood, and Daenerys began pounding at the side of the pit with full force.

“Please, someone help!” Daenerys screamed. The red rain came down harder and harder, until she could see nothing.

Dimly, she felt the blood reach her waist. Daenerys waded from one side of the pit to the other, blind, with eyes sealed shut by dried blood.

_ Who can help me? _

“Jon! Jon! Help me, please!”

No one came. 

“Whoever is doing this, please! I’m sorry! It doesn’t mean anything, but I’m sorry for my crimes!”

The blood reached her chin, and Daenerys resorted to lifting her face upwards, where torrents of blood rained down on her.

Memories of her time in limbo came to her. 

_ He could save me. But to summon Him... _

A soft, sweet voice echoed in Daenerys’s head.

_ He will help. He will always help you. _

Daenerys shook her head. 

_ No. I won’t! _

The blood reached her lips. Daenerys began leaping through it, trying to keep her head above the steaming waves. It was hard enough moving in the thick liquid, and Daenerys’s dress was drenched in blood as well, making movement that much harder. 

The blood rose further, and now, if Daenerys were to stand still, the blood would be higher than her head.

_ He will help. _

Daenerys shook her head. 

_ I won’t. _

The blood rose further, and Daenerys tried to stay afloat in it. For a long time, she kept her head above the red. But she grew tired. Finally, after a long struggle, she sank beneath the hot crimson waves.

Terror rose in Daenerys’s heart, followed by a dull acceptance.

_ This is what I deserve. To drown in the blood of the innocents I slaughtered. _

The Targaryen opened her mouth and let the bitter blood flow in. 

A while later, a body rose to the blood’s frothing surface.

 

Daenerys awoke with a start, Jon sleeping at her side. She stared at her hand and at her bandaged appendage, and settled back, her chained feet rustling slightly.

_ It was a dream. It was a dream. _

 

And it was, and yet it wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's interesting, I think, to consider how a sane Dany would consider the act of King's Landing. (For what it's worth, I think she was straight-up warged into by Bran, and thus driven insane, Hodor-style. In this fic, however, I'm rolling with the premise she acted freely, of her own will.) I believe she would feel incredibly guilty, and I want to see how that would manifest itself.


	7. Purchased with Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Targaryens break chains.

 A splash of water awoke the sleeping couple.

Jon stirred, and gave a look of hatred towards the man looming over them.

“Come now, young man. That’s no way to look this early on the morning!”

_ Damn you. _

Jon idly noticed that his feet were free of chains, and it was instead his hand that was bound to Daenerys’s, and his other hand to the floor. 

_ How did he do this without us awakening? _

Jon thought back to the previous day’s events.

_ The bread and salt. It must have been drugged. But Daenerys- _

The silver-haired woman was awakening as well, and Jon’s heart fell at the sight of dried tear tracks on her face.

_ What nightmare haunts you, my love? _

“Good morning, little lady!” The slaver gave Daenerys a smile. She cringed slightly.

_ He seemed nice enough when I first awoke. How was I to know he intended to sell us into a life of misery? _

The elderly man threw a bag on the bed and left the room. 

“Get dressed! I’ll be back very soon!”

Jon got up slowly, allowing Daenerys enough time to adjust to the short length of iron binding the two together. After a moment, the white-haired woman crawled over to the satchel and opened it. It contained clothes that would not have seemed out of place on a peasant couple, made of a light, dirty cotton fabric.

Jon and Daenerys tried to get dressed, struggling to do so when Jon had the use of one hand and Daenerys the use of neither of hers. R'hllor’s gift wriggled uselessly. Jon stared at the organ.

_ It’s still an arm of some sort, despite its appearance. _

“Daenerys, can you move it? Like an arm?”

Daenerys tried, her face scrunched up in concentration. Sweat beaded on her temple, and slowly, painfully, the red, glistening tentacle began to move upwards. For a moment, it shakily extended from Daenerys’s shoulder towards Jon. Then Daenerys sat back with a gasp, and as the chain between them grew taut, Jon stumbled forward, crashing into the bed. Daenerys inched closer to him, helping the Northerner to his feet.

“It’s like moving my arm through thick, thick mud. I can, but it’s not easy. And it hurts.”

_ We’re both hurt, I guess. _

Immediately Jon felt a wave of shame wash over him.

_ Who am I to complain? You’ve been cut open while alive, and I stand here bemoaning my hands. _

The slaver barged in, and Jon and Daenerys scrambled to cover their state of undress with a bedsheet.

“You two are too slow. Get dressed now.”

Jon fidgeted.

“Now.”

_ This is so wrong. I won’t- _

Daenerys, thinking quickly, grabbed the bedsheet, and wrapped it around the couple, the satchel lying at their feet. The slaver chuckled.

“You two are too modest for the position you’re in. But I’ll allow it. Get dressed.”

Daenerys and Jon stumbled into their clothing, one of them holding the sheet around the other in order to ward off the slaver’s eyes. When Daenerys began to change into her roughspun dress, Jon ensured that the bedsheet protected her modesty. The slaver groaned in disappointment.

“Come on, lad. I’m sure your lady is a sight for sore eyes. Just a look.”

Anger and anxiety wormed their way into Jon’s mind.

_ What if this bastard tries something? I can’t even use my hands: how will I be able to defend her? _

Thankfully, the man didn’t say anything else, and the Targaryens finished changing. 

The slaver walked over to the bed, where the length of chain that bound Jon and Daenerys together was attached to the floor. He disconnected it from the ground, and pulled. Jon and Daenerys stumbled towards him. The slaver didn’t wait for them to get ready. He pulled at the chain as he walked quickly out of the room. Daenerys stumbled forwards, falling to the ground. Jon tried to stop, but the slaver pulled, and Jon bit back a scream as the manacles the chain was bound to rammed into his left hand. 

“Please stop! You’ll hurt her!”

“You’d best find a way to make sure that she doesn’t get hurt, then.”

For half a minute, Jon stumbled forward, the chain dragging Daenerys through the dirt behind him.

_ I can’t let this happen. _

Jon yanked on the chain that extended from his right hand to Daenerys’s left, pulling the woman close to him. He sank to a knee, Daenerys right behind him.

“Arm around my neck. Fast!”

Daenerys did as she was told, and as the slaver pulled, Jon rose to his feet, Daenerys on his back. Jon snaked his right arm behind his back to steady her, the chain between them going slack. Daenerys sighed, and rested her chin on Jon’s shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“That’s quite romantic.”

The slaver’s voice rang out, and Jon turned to him, a bitter expression etched on his face.

“Quiet, Jon!” Daenerys hissed into his ear. “Remember what I said? We’ll figure this out.”

Jon swallowed his words, and followed the chain’s pull. The slaver led them down a long hallway with dozens of doors, which doubtlessly led to rooms like the one that they had slept in.

“Where are you taking us?”

“To the Red Temple. I’ll be registering the pair of you as my products, and then I’ll have the two of you wed and shipped off to Asshai. You’ll be meeting many people like yourselves in the Harbor, all on their way to the various cities of Essos.”

Daenerys spoke softly. “Braavos banned slavery, at the beginning of its history. Why has it been allowed to thrive?”

“If I’m being honest, sweetling, it’s not entirely legal. No man or woman with enough money to pay for their freedom may be enslaved. At least, that’s what the citizens of this city are told.”

Jon frowned. “And what are we?”

“You two aren’t of any means! I bought you off of a fisherman who found the both of you floating in the harbor.”

Daenerys’s voice was sharp when she broke the silence after the slaver’s declaration.

“I see. So only the weak and the defenseless are vulnerable to slavers’ predations.”

The slaver laughed as he dragged Jon and Daenerys into the sunlight.

“And? Who’s going to stop it? The Dragon Queen is dead; she will break no more chains.”

_ That’s what you think, you filth. _

“Ah, there were toasts and celebrations in the cabins of slave ships across the East when we heard the news from Westeros. And after the Revolt was crushed, we were free to sell our wares across the world.”

Jon’s anger faded into misery as he felt a wetness on his shoulder.

_ Daenerys, don’t cry. You’re not dead, not anymore. We can fix this even if I can’t see how.  _

Self-hate raced through Jon, coursing bitterly through his veins.

_ I did this. I killed the Breaker of Chains. I blessed the slavers of Essos by murdering the one person who could have stopped them. And now, with R’hllor smiling upon it, slavery ravages Braavos. _

Drogon and the burning of Vaes Dothrak flashed through Jon’s mind.

_ The rest of Essos isn’t faring much better. _

The trio fell silent for a while. Daenerys began itching her tentacle.

“It’s dry, isn’t it?” The slaver gave Daenerys a sharp look. She nodded. He walked towards the couple, a strange glint in his eye.

_ I don’t like this.  _ Jon began backing away.

“Stand still, boy. I’ve been far gentler than I need to be. I will be harsh if you give me a reason.”

Jon froze, and the slaver stood in front of him. The old man extended a hand, and felt Daenerys’s mutation. He then let it go, and wiped his hands on his clothes.

“I don’t envy your man the task of caring for that. It looks like it’s extremely sensitive to the dry air. You’ll need to keep it wet.”

“May we get some water?”

“Mayhaps. Ask someone at the temple.”

The slaver continued walking, Jon following him into the street.

_ It’s so empty. _

Jon had expected a city the size of Braavos to have been bustling with people and activity. Instead, under the beating rays of the blazing sun overhead, there was silence. No one but the three were outside, and spare the dust and smoky clouds above, nothing moved.

Daenerys squeezed Jon’s right shoulder, and he looked back at her, still walking forwards. She leaned into his ear and whispered quickly.

“Trust me. Follow me.”

_ Always. From now on, always. _

Daenerys suddenly sprang off of Jon’s back and sprinted towards the slaver. Jon ran behind her, the chain between them growing taut. The slaver turned to face the pair, surprise evident on his face.

Before he could react, Daenerys clawed at his left eye.

“You little-”

Jon, ignoring the pain in his hands, punched the slaver in the head. In shock, the slaver dropped the chain that was bound to Jon’s right hand. Jon grabbed it, testing its weight.

_ It’ll do- _

The slaver drew his sword from the scabbard at his side and prepared to strike at Daenerys. Jon’s vision filled with red. He swung the chain at the slaver, and the iron length slammed into the man’s wrist with a satisfying crunch. The elderly man screamed and nearly collapsed. Daenerys kicked him in the knee, and the slaver fell to the ground.

Daenerys tried to wrest the sword from the man’s grip, but the slaver fought back, kicking her in the stomach. Daenerys stumbled backwards, winded, and Jon was pulled towards the ground by the taut chain that linked him to his beloved. Daenerys and the slaver kicked and punched each other, both trying to keep the other’s hands off the sword. The pair wrestled in the dirt, biting and clawing at each other. Jon regained his balance, his mind racing.

_ I need to get this man away from Daenerys-  _

Daenerys screamed as the slaver bit her tentacle, and Jon lost the ability to think. He charged at the slaver, yelling wildly. Daenerys flung her arm around the man’s neck, wrapping the chain that bound her to Jon around it. At the same time, Jon swung the long chain in his hand, hitting the slaver in the head. The man slumped forwards, blood seeping from his nose and mouth. Daenerys continued screaming, but her voice was no longer the sound of a scared, powerless person. Her yells were the roars of a dragon, echoing in the empty street. She pulled the chain wrapped around the slaver’s neck tight, and the man began to struggle, clawing at the choking iron. 

Jon hit him in the head with the chain, again and again. Daenerys’s tentacle moved fluidly in the throes of her rage, and it wrapped around the slaver’s neck and squeezed. The slaver’s mouth foamed, and his eyes bulged. He thrashed wildly, his broken hand desperately reaching for the sword lying on the ground, his other clawing at the chain wrapped around his neck. Daenerys’s tentacle snaked upwards, sticking to and probing the slaver’s face, squelching as it made its way to the man’s left eye. The slaver wailed in agony, blood dribbling down his cheeks. Jon struck again, and the man’s visible eye rolled into the back of his head. Still, Daenerys squeezed with her tentacle, and pulled tighter at the chain wrapped around his neck. Jon swung the chain again.

Life had long left the man’s body by the time Jon and Daenerys finally stopped. Daenerys slumped back to the ground, exhausted. She stared at her tentacle, then at the slaver’s ruined face. The appendage had left deep, circular cuts on the man’s neck and face, which leaked blood onto his dry skin and the ground. Daenerys grabbed the tentacle with her hand and flipped it over. With a seemingly detached interest, she studied the organ.

The white suckers on the tentacle were stained red, and they seemed to undulate  slightly as her heart raced, seeping a thin mucus made pink by the slaver’s blood. The sun was painful as it fell on the soft, white flesh, and Daenerys quickly flipped it over. The red skin that she exposed to the sun was chapped and leathery in the dry air, and Jon knew that soon he would have to find a water source to keep it moist. 

The slaver’s head was a ruined mess, and his blood and brain had been flung about by Jon’s work with the iron chain. Much of the hot fluid had been splattered onto the Dragon Queen, lending her delicate face a savage aspect. Amethyst eyes stared out from a mask made of caked blood and dirt, and Daenerys’s lips were curled back in disgust as she studied the slaver’s corpse. Suddenly, her thunderous expression faded, and Daenerys slumped forwards, exhausted. Her tentacle lay slack on the ground, lying in a pool of blood issuing from the slaver’s body.

_ We need to get out of the street. From what this man said, Braavos is a dangerous place for people without coin. Wait. _

Jon knelt at the slaver’s side, and ran his hands in the man’s pockets. He pulled out a small coin purse. 

_ Perfect. Thank the Red God. _ Anxiety ran through Jon.  _ Why did I thank the Red One? He is the one who placed us in this position.  _ Jon looked at Daenerys, and bit back a gasp.

The Dragon Queen was slowly moving her tentacle in the ochre puddle, slathering blood on her organ’s surface.

_ At least that’ll keep it wet. I guess she’s figured out how to move it as well. _

Her gruesome task complete, Daenerys shakily rose to her feet, pulling the chain binding her to Jon taut.

“Jon, we need to leave. People will have heard the noise, and they will come to see what happened.”

The Targaryens rose to their feet, and stumbled away from the body lying in the street.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked the chapter.
> 
> A big shout-out to C0DA for their comments on this fic; I hadn't heard of Bloodborne before, and I found the premise of the game very interesting. Also, seeing that people were still into this fic made me figure out kinks in the plot so that the next update came 2 months ahead of schedule. They'll be coming out faster now, hopefully.
> 
> I look forward to your comments. Reading them is one of the things that motivates me to write, especially this fic, which I consider the hardest of the ones I'm working on to write, both from a creative and writing perspective.


	8. Twisted Stories

Jon and Daenerys stumbled through the abandoned streets of Braavos, getting as far away from the slaver’s corpse as they could. Daenerys let her thoughts wander. 

_ I don’t know if laws are still enforced, but it’s best to get away regardless. _

The Targaryens did their best to hide the chains bound to them, with Jon wrapping the long length tied to his free hand around its arm. With Daenerys clasping his other hand in hers, the pair looked like a peasant couple wandering the streets. They walked side by side through the streets as the sun beat down on them through the smoky sky.

_ What now? _

Daenerys winced as the sun’s rays began to irritate her tentacle. She rubbed the organ against her dress, leaving red-brown stains on her clothing. 

_ The blood is drying so fast. It won’t last nearly as long as I wanted it to- _

“Daenerys, look!”

Jon pointed to the sky, and a black plume of smoke that rose into it. The source of the fire was nearby. Daenerys’s mind whirred.

_ If we go there, we will be bound to meet someone. But will that be a good thing?  _

After a moment, Daenerys walked toward the flames, Jon following her quickly.

****

It was a blacksmith’s forge. By the time that the Targaryens arrived, whatever had caused the flames had been put out, and the only sign that fire had ever been there was the black soot on the walls. The sound of a hammer at work filled the air. The couple cautiously approached the forge, and as they did, the sounds of a hammer falling ceased. A man walked out from behind an anvil and studied them.

“What can I do for you?”

Jon hesitated, and then spoke.

“We saw the smoke, and we were curious.” Quickly he added, “how much do you charge?”

_ Jon, what- _

“What for?”

“Breaking chains.” Jon lifted the length bound to his other hand in the air. The man’s eyes widened, and gestured for the two Targaryens to come nearer.

“When did you escape?”

Daenerys answered quickly.

“Today.”

The blacksmith looked into the street, and then turned around, leading Jon and Daenerys into the forge.

“I’ll break these for free.” As he grabbed a hammer, Daenerys noted the scars on his wrists, scars that seemed like those left by manacles.

“Come closer.”

They did, and the blacksmith guided the chain binding the two together onto an anvil. He lifted his hammer, and with a  _ thud _ , Daenerys was free. She massaged her hand with her tentacle, and tried to ignore the sticky feeling the appendage left on her hand.

“Where are you originally from?” The blacksmith’s words rang out, above the sound of his hammer as it broke through Jon’s manacles.

Daenerys quickly came up with a response.

“Meereen.”

The blacksmith nodded.

“I was from Tyrosh.”

_ Braavos, Meereen, Tyrosh, Lys.... It seems that every corner of Essos has been ravaged by the Red One. _

Jon joined Daenerys, rubbing his wrists. The blacksmith looked at them.

“My wife and I were freed in the Revolt. We made our way to Braavos several years ago, and I try to help people like us.” He hesitated. “She’s Changed too.”

_ Oh. I haven’t thought about it, but the avatar showed us that extreme mutations are common in Essos now. _

“What are your names?”

“I’m Jon.”

Daenerys saw no response to lie.

“My name is Daenerys.”

The smith nodded, and gave her a weary smile.

“A blessed name.”

_ A blessed name? _

At her expression, the man frowned.

“Come, girl, you hail from Meereen. Surely you were named for her.”

Daenerys froze.

_ People are naming their children after me? _

“I was. I’m sorry, I didn’t know people here knew of the Dragon-”

“Of course we do! Do you think we’d ever forget her?”

“No, no! Forgive me. I am, I-”

Jon broke in the conversation.

“It’s been ten years for us, sir. Ten years since we heard any news of the outside world. Forgive us if we seem ignorant.”

The man winced.

“Ten years aboard a slave ship? How are you two alive?”

_ If that’s the explanation he’s come up with, I’ll use it. _

Daenerys’s response was bitter. 

“By the blessings of the Red One.”

The man nodded.

“Blessed are the flames of the Red God.”

Jon and Daenerys repeated the words in unison.

“Blessed are the flames of the Red God.”

The man nodded, and looked away.

“I won’t pry; the Red One knows that I don’t want to awaken bad memories.” He looked at the Targaryens, and came to a decision. 

“You see that house over there?” He pointed to a crude house with a door that had  a red flame painted on a dusty, dirty white.

“Yes.”

“Go there. It’s mine, my wife is there.” He hesitated. “I warn you, her appearance can be a little startling. Be prepared.”

_ Trust me, a woman’s appearance is the least horrible thing I can imagine, after all that’s happened. _

“Tell her Moqressh sent you. She will help you, and we will meet again tonight.”

The Targaryens nodded. Jon looked at the blacksmith.

“Thank you.”

Moqressh shook his head.

“We freemen must help each other. The Red One knows that the world wants nothing more than to enslave us again.” He studied Jon, and quickly added, “tell her that you hands need... healing. Lots of healing.”

Jon nodded, and the two Targaryens walked to the house. Daenerys knocked, and the couple waited. After a moment, a muffled voice echoed from behind the door. 

“Who is it?”

Daenerys spoke in the friendliest tone she could muster.

“Moqressh sent us, my lady. We-”

The door opened, and an arm extended out from behind it.

_ It looks perfectly normal to me. _

“Come in, then. How do you know my husband?”

The Targaryens entered, and as they did, Daenerys responded.   
“He helped us, and told-”

Her voice caught in her throat as she took a look at Moqressh’s wife.

From the neck down, the woman was utterly normal. But her head was changed.

_ If I don’t look closely, she looks normal. But the more I look at her face, the more I see. Those aren’t braids, they’re vines. And her eyes! _

Instead of eyes, the woman had two flowers in her head, flowers that were white-petaled with a black center. From underneath them, a red, sap-like substance ran down her face. A cane in the woman’s hands confirmed that she was blind, and she frowned at Daenerys’s pausing.

“Aye, it’s not the prettiest thing, girl. But it’s my face, so unless you want to leave-”

“No, no! I’m Changed too!”

The woman stopped, her hurt expression fading.

“Oh. Where?”

Daenerys’s voice was oddly clinical, even to her ears.

“The Red God has blessed me with the flesh of a Kraken. My left arm is a tentacle.”

Moqressh’s wife winced.

“Well, that’s some Change. I apologize; I have little patience for people who can’t stand to look at me. I might not see, but I can tell all the same.”

The woman walked to a chair, one of two, tapping her cane all the while. As she did, Daenerys took a look at the house, if it could be called that. It was a single room, with a flat, dirt floor. A fireplace produced the reddish light that illuminated the room, and a collection of blankets in a corner served as a bed. The bulk of the room, however, was taken by a wooden pole. Daenerys and Jon approached it.

At the bottom were several wooden blocks, etched with two names.

_ Tysla. Daenerys. Who are these people? Who is the person named after me? _

“Daenerys, look!”

Jon pointed at the pole’s middle, where a three headed dragon was carved into the wood. As crude as it was, Daenerys instantly knew what it was.

_ My sigil.  _

Above it, at the pole’s top, was a carving of a flame. It was painted red.

“My lady-”

“Call me Sarela, girl.”

“Sarela, what is this, uh, pole?”

“Have you been raised by Dothraki, girl? That is-”

A heavy gong sounded through the air, and Daenerys froze.

_ It sounds like the bells. It sounds like the bells, the bells, the- _

Jon grabbed her face.

“It’s not what you think it is, Daenerys.” He looked at Sarela. “What is that?”

Sarela shook her head. “It is a warning bell. There’s a sandstorm brewing to the East, and that means it’ll be hitting us soon.”

A few moments later, there was a pounding on the door. Sarela opened it, and Moqressh walked in.

“A sandstorm is coming, and they say it’s going to be a big one.”

Daenerys was confused.

_ Sandstorms? The Red Waste is half a continent away. _

“Where would the sandstorm come from?”

Moqressh smiled at the question and at the ignorance it betrayed.

“You truly don’t know what has happened in the past decade. You’ve missed a lot.”

Daenerys nodded.

“Can you tell us what has happened?”

Moqressh sighed.

“After I eat, and your man’s wounds are tended to.”

Satisfied, Daenerys nodded. Sarela went to the fireplace, and lifted a pot from the burning wood.

“You should eat, girl.” Sarela felt for Jon, gently pulling him to her and feeling his hands. “We’ll join you soon.”

Moqressh sat on the ground, opening the pot, which contained a stew of sorts. He pointed to the fireplace.

“Daenerys, there should be some spoons there.”   
Sarela stiffened slightly.

“Daenerys?”

“That’s my name, Sarela.”

Sarela looked down and nodded.

“A blessed name.”

Daenerys didn’t respond, and instead walked to the fireplace. Quickly finding several spoons, she walked back to Moqressh and the pot. The blacksmith took a spoon from her, and began to eat. Daenerys followed. A few minutes later, Jon and Sarela joined them. Daenerys studied the white bandages wrapped around Jon’s digits.

“You’ll need to feed him, Daenerys. I don’t want him to use his hands for a while.”

Daenerys acquesied, and the group ate. 

_ It’s rather... tasteless. But it’s filling. _

Finally, when the four of them had eaten their fill, Moqressh lifted the pot and placed it into the flames. Then, he put out the flames, plunging the room into darkness. Sarela explained the measure to the surprised guests.

“It’s because of the coming sandstorm. It could choke the chimney, and then the smoke would strangle us.”

Daenerys nodded in the darkness. Her thoughts turned to Moqressh’s promise.

“You said you would explain.”

Moqressh’s voice emerged from the darkness.

‘I will. I’m curious, though, what do you know?”

Daenerys spoke softly.

“I know that slavery has flourished across Essos. I know that Lys is a place of great danger.” 

Jon’s voice was weary.

“I know that the last dragon now belongs to the Red One.”

_ Drogon? _

Daenerys turned to look where Jon sat, in the darkness.

_ Drogon? Jon, what happened to Drogon? What did He do to my son? _

Moqressh’s voice was equally tired.

“You know little, then. It’s best to start with the Dragon Goddess’s history.”

_ Dragon Goddess? _

Moqressh’s voice was reverent when he spoke.

“Daenerys Targaryen. The Red Priests tell us that she was born from the Westerosi kings of old, and that she came into existence to spread the faith of the Red One.”

_ What? _

“She left her mortal coil when her husband died, when she walked into his pyre. The Red God smiled at His daughter, and blessed her with three dragons, beings of fire made flesh. Just like her.”

_ Could it be? Could my children have been given to me through R’hllor’s blessing? _

“Using this gift, she decided to march upon the Ghiscari, and crushed the unbelievers and their false Harpy. She broke the chains of those slaves, freeing them. And the Red God, pleased by her devotion to Him, made her Mhysa, Mother of the Faithful.”

_ What madness is this? I never worshipped the Red God! I never fought for a faith! This is a warped telling of what actually happened. As for ‘Mother of the Faithful’, I never treated those who followed the Red God differently. _

“Inspired, she left for Westeros, to aid the Red God’s faithful in the fight against the Great Other. And then, she met the man who would betray her.” Moqressh spat on the ground in disgust. “The Black Traitor, may he suffer forever, came to the Dragon Goddess, and she fell for his charms.”

Daenerys reached for Jon, and gave his arm a squeeze. He didn’t respond.

“Why do you call him that?”

Moqressh’s voice was harsh and unyielding.

“He was sired by the Red One himself, his soul brought back to his dead body by the Red God’s faithful. But he was a covetous, envious soul who grasped for power at every chance he got. He aimed to usurp the Dragon Goddess, as she tried to expand the Red God’s realm and save the Red One’s western flock.”

_ That’s not what happened! That’s not what happened at all! Jon didn’t try to usurp me, and he hated power. _

“Despite this, the Dragon Goddess fought for the forces of the Red God in the battle of the Long Night. She won, and turned South, to save the souls of Westeros. And in the skies above King’s Landing, the Red God endowed her with the powers of an avatar, and she cleansed the city.”

_ Is that how you see it? Is that how the Red Priests teach it? My greatest sin, a cleansing? _

“But lo! The Black Traitor, may he suffer forever, saw that she would ascend to the Red God’s court, that she would rule as His Hand in the west. And with a heart as black as the clothes he wore, he killed her mortal form.”

Quiet sniffles echoed in the darkness. Jon was crying.

Moqressh’s voice was sympathetic.

“I feel your pain, Jon. I too wept, when the Red Priests told us what had happened to the Red God’s daughter. But there is always hope. For as you said, the great Dragon, last of Daenerys Targaryen’s children, rose to the Red God’s side. He fights for us.”

_ The Red Priests have enslaved Drogon. _ Daenerys swayed slightly.  _ I suppose He is pleased, though. He’s taken my story, my struggles, my successes and my failures, and twisted them for His ends. _

“And the Red God, grieving for His daughter, unleashed His fury on the world. We who were slaves rose up as one. Across Essos, for three years, there was a Revolt that shook the foundations of the world.” 

Sarela began speaking.

“We all fought. There was a priestess who traveled across Essos, and told everyone she met that the Red God had returned the Dragon Goddess’s body to its full strength, and that She was still serving the Red God, and that we needed to do so too.”

Daenerys’s stomach turned.

_ Is that what they call my time as a research subject? Serving the Red God? _

Moqressh continued.

“And we did. But soon, the war for freedom was swallowed in a greater conflict. The Red Hand, the Red God’s army, marched on the cities of Essos, taking them into His fold. We were in Tyrosh, then, and after the Red Hand restored order to the city, Sarela and I fled to Braavos.”

Daenerys’s voice was raspy.

“How long ago was this?”

“Five years ago, right before the Changes began.” Moqressh sighed. “It was a brutal time for us. After the Red Hand turned eastwards, slavery became commonplace. And the weather changed, with every day becoming hotter than the last. And then, people began falling sick. Nobody really knows the reasons that mutations have become so common, but it has cost us a great deal.” His voice shook slightly. “Tysla and Daenerys, our two children, died because of them.”

“I’m sorry.”

Silence stretched over the room. Sarela broke it, her voice heavy.

“We should rest. I’m sorry, we don’t have a place for you to sleep-”

“That’s fine, the floor is clean enough.”

_ For a dirt floor, at least it’s not muddy. _

Moqressh and Sarela settled onto their blanket, and Jon and Daenerys walked to the opposite corner, where they laid down, side by side. Jon turned to the wall.

“Jon? Are you alright?”

He didn’t answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. I'll be deleting the previous chapter sometime this week, so download it if you liked it.
> 
> Keep in mind that the mythology Moqressh is presenting is a super-distorted version of what happened. We'll see why this is the story that R'hllor's priests are sharing as the story progresses.


	9. Lyanna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Gore, Violence, and Emotional Abuse.

_ Where am I? _

Daenerys stood on a beach at sunset, the red sky and orange clouds casting a ruddy shadow on the gleaming waters and pale sands. As she looked down, Daenerys realized she had two hands.

_ I’m dreaming. _

A low hiss echoed from behind her. Daenerys whirled around.

A glimmering silver cloud floated in the air before her, its fringes brushing against the sand. Behind it, a red flame burned brightly.

**_It seems that the Lord wants you to meet someone, little spark._ **

Daenerys’s mind buzzed with questions.

_ Who? And why- _

The sky rumbled, and a cloud darkened. A book gently floated down from the black cloud and into Daenerys’s hands.

_ This doesn’t seem so terrible. _

It was a leather-bound volume, with a red flame above a dragon scored into the cover. The number “29” was engraved on the book’s spine. The tome was huge, hundreds upon hundreds of pages long. Daenerys gently opened it to the first page.

_ It’s in Valyrian. _

**_‘A Study of the Development of a Valyrian Infant’._ **

A thread of horror ran down Daenerys’s spine.

**_It forms the 29th volume in the corpus of research that was harvested from your body during your time in Volantis._ **

_ No. Gods, please, no. _

“Was I-”

**_You were pregnant. You and your Jon Snow had created a Valyrian baby, the first in the world since the death of your son. The faithful servants of R’hllor were delighted to learn that they had been blessed with the chance to study the growth of such a babe in the closest way possible._ **

Daenerys fell to her knees, hugging the book to her chest. A savage pain throbbed behind her temple, and Daenerys broke down, weeping.

**_Ah, not again._ **

_ I killed my baby.  _

**_No, child. Jon Snow killed your baby._ **

_ And I gave him the reason to do so. _

For a while, the sands were silent, spare Daenerys’s choked tears.

**_Read it._ **

_ I can’t. I don’t want to- _

A thread of flame unrolled from the avatar’s blaze and connected tautly to Daenerys’s temple. Daenerys opened her eyes wide as her arms moved on their own, opening the book.

**_Read._ **

_ I should. I don’t want to, but not reading it won’t make it go away. And if I don’t, I’ll be tormented by not knowing. Perhaps what I imagine is worse than reality. _

Daenerys sat down in the sand, and traced the book’s cover. Finally, with a weary sigh, she began to read. If she had any more tears left, they would have been shed.

_ This hurts. _

Daenerys read the cold, soulless words, and studied the delicate drawings made by some demented Red Priest.

_ ‘The infant developed at a faster pace than a normal child. It is unclear if this is natural or a consequence of the magic used to keep her alive outside of the womb.” _

Daenerys gently flipped through the pages. 

_ ‘A careful biopsy of the infant’s felging organs was performed. Curiously, many are analogous to those of reptile hatchlings, rather than those of other humans. The vestigial winglike structures on the fetus’s back have shrunk significantly, but remain prominent.’ _

Daenerys paused as she came across a drawing of the unborn girl. Her fingers traced the small lips, the tiny fingers and the small, incomplete feet, as well as the waxy scales and the tiny, dragon-like wings.

_ Even now, even like this, I think you’re quite beautiful, sweetling. I wish I could have seen you when it was time for you to enter the world. _

Daenerys continued reading.

_ ‘The subject has suffered due to the extensive time it has spent outside of its mother, far before such a separation is survivable. While a complex concoction of medication and magic has sustained her, it is unlikely that she will be born.’ I suppose I should be grateful that her suffering has ended.  _

Daenerys flipped to the end. __

_ ‘Today, the subject was tested to see if she could sense pain. Precise incisions were made to her extremities, and when the subject reacted, we moved on to a complete vivisection, followed by an autopsy at the most detailed of levels-” _

“Why?” Daenerys cradled the book in her arms, as if it were the child that she could have had.

“Why do this? Why show this to me?” More questions streamed forth. “Why have the people of Essos worship me as a goddess? What is the point of all this?”

**_The answer to your questions are fascinating. But there is no need for you to hear them._ **

_ Should I be happy that at least there is a reason? _

**_Is a cow happy that there is a reason for her being led to the slaughterhouse?_ **

Daenerys stood up, with the book still cradled in her hands.

“Is that what this is? Am I being raised for slaughter?”

**_Not yet. Not until your job is done._ **

Daenerys’s mind buzzed with the implications of the statement. She then hardened her heart, and looked at the avatar.

_ You’ve awaken the dragon. _

“Tell your master that He is no real god.”

**_Oh?_ **

Daenerys nodded, her anger overpowering the fear that clung to her like a cloak.

“Real gods, they- they care. They give comfort, they heal. What kind of god is R’hllor? What kind of being torments a mother by showing her what the people that tortured her did to her daughter? How can He pretend to be a good being?”

**_Tell me, child, which of the beings that your kind call gods is good? The Seven who feast on the souls of the Andals? The Drowned God who ravages the minds of those who dare to sail on the open ocean? The Great Other, who has turned the western continent into a mirror image of this one?_ **

Daenerys fell silent.

**_I have healed you. I have revived you. I have given your love his life back. Do you even know how he died?_ **

_ No. Jon never told me. _

**_He met his demise dancing at the end of a rope, a victim of the guilt his actions brought upon him._ **

_ No. _

**_Do you want to see?_ **

“No!” Daenerys blanched, and backed away from the avatar.

**_He killed himself because you died at his hand. What will he do, I wonder, if I visit his dreams and show him Volume 29? If I show him the truth of what he did?_ **

Daenerys’s voice was soft.

“Don’t. Please don’t.”

**_What will you give me in return?_ **

“What do you need from me? I have nothing. My body is your creation. My mind has been reforged at your hand countless times. Jon sold my soul to you.”

**_I need a child. A Valyrian child._ **

Daenerys paled.

**_Why do you think Jon Snow draws breath? I would have done the job myself, if I thought your soul could survive the contact. I still might._ **

“Why do you need a Valyrian child?”

**_You will have to explore the homeland- His and yours-  to find out why._ **

Daenerys’s world shifted about its axis.

“Valyria is His homeland too?”

**_He was there, scattered and benign, long before your shepherd ancestors began to settle the Lands of the Long Summer. But it matters not. The Red God needs a Valyrian child. Give Him one._ **

“Why? Why would I, when I know what your followers have done to my other child?”

**_Do not try my patience, godling. I am but a drop of water compared to the full might of the Red God, and I have overpowered you with ease. If you ask too many questions, I will simply give the information I have granted you with to Jon Snow. If he chooses to do something... unwise, I will not save him._ **

_ I’m trapped. What do I do-wait! _ Hope rose in Daenerys’s heart.

“I am barren-”

**_I gave you a new body. You have everything He needs._ ** Daenerys’s heart sank.

_ Do I doom my child, or do I doom Jon?  _

**_Doom your child?_ ** The silver cloud quivered, and a hot wind blew it close to Daenerys.  **_Little spark, your daughter is here. She is blessed by Us, not doomed. You disappoint Him, by thinking that serving the Red God is a punishment._ **

Daenerys reached for the silver cloud, and bit back a sob as the wind blew it just out of her reach.

**_Do you want her back?_ **

“Yes. More than anything.”

**_Then give Him what He needs from you._ **

Daenerys turned away from the avatar, the impossible choice waiting for her.

**_The Red God is kind. You may take your time in this._ **

“Thank you.” Daenerys knew better than to turn down this mercy.

**_One more thing. That book. What do you think of the leather cover?_ **

Daenerys traced the smooth, cool, fabric.

“It’s nice.”

**_That’s good. Her skin was used to make it._ **

Jon, Moqressh, and Sarela were woken by Daenerys’s screams. No matter what they did or said, she was inconsolable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope you guys comment with your thoughts.
> 
> As for the change in tags, I added the R'hllor/Dany tag just in case, as it seems that the Jonerys tag is kind of sensitive to Dany having relationships with other beings in primarily Jonerys stories.
> 
>  
> 
> We're being to see hints of R'hllor's plans now, and hopefully it'll make more sense as time goes on.


	10. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About this fic, and a new one with a similar tone.

Hi everyone.

I started writing this fic to practice my skills in writing scenes that are dark, and I think I got some practice in that. I started this fic back in the immediate aftermath of S8, but it's hard for me to write post-S8 fanfics, as I hate even thinking about S8. That, coupled with the planned ending of this fic, kind of killed my motivation to work on this story.

But that's not to say I'm done with Jonerys, dark fantasy, or horror writing. Not at all. I want to share what happened in this fic that made writing it hard, and I owe it to the people who enjoyed it to tell them what the planned ending was.

I'll also tell you dark fantasy fans what I have in store for you.

**What went wrong?**

For starters, if there's one thing I've learned in writing fanfics, it's that I need an outline in order to write. Without one, my stories tend to fall apart. That's what happened here. Things got added because of the "Rule of Cool", such as the whole mutation thing, and while I like the idea, it made the story harder to write. It's why the story jumps around so much: we go from the real afterlife, to R'hllor, to Essos, and a lot of these changes, while fun to write, messed up the flow of the story. When I sat down and outlined the fic, I realized that the ending I had in mind was so dark that I didn't want to write it anymore.

~~SPOILERS WARNING: OUTLINE FOR THE REST OF THE FIC~~~

Jon and Dany continue living with their new friends, and get married. All the while, Dany and Jon realize that the Red Priests are preaching that Dany is an aspect of R'hllor, as he appears to slaves and oppressed people. Dany, in her dreams, pushes the avatar to explain why, but he refuses to explain. Eventually, the avatar orders her to have a child, and Dany gives in after the avatar threatens to reveal to Jon that Jon killed his unborn child.

Nine months later, Dany has a daughter. A few days after her birth, the avatar consumes the baby, mutating her and taking the baby to Asshai. Dany and Jon race across Essos to Asshai, and all the while Dany notices that she is growing angrier and crueler in nature. When the pair arrives at Asshai, Jon is captured by the Red Priests, and Dany is swallowed by the avatar.

Jon is experimented on by the Red Priests, and he dies. Before he does, the avatar reveals to him that he killed his first child, and Jon dies in agony. In the afterlife, he meets Rhaegar, who rejects him, and Aerys, who to Jon's horror, is proud of him. Rhaella intercedes on Jon's behalf, and Jon's ultimate fate is to spend eternity as an exile in the Targaryen afterlife.

Dany despairs, and gives in to the avatar's demands, even as they strip away her personality, leaving nothing but a husk. R'hllor himself arrives, and reveals to Dany that he is actually a young entity, born in the fires of the Doom of Valyria. In order to grow in power, he needed to gain the faith of all the people of Essos, and he used Dany as a tool to gain the faith of those he oppressed. He comforts Dany by telling her he will restore Valyria, and then he consumes her entirely. Dany dies, her soul ripped apart and eaten by R'hllor. Her ultimate fate is to be fused forever with the Red God, forever serving as a tool to further his ambitions.

A thousand years later, we see a terrifying Valryian Empire that commits horrific atrocities in the name of the Red God, and rules the entire world from Thenn to Ulthos. Dragons have returned, the Great Other has been killed, and Daenerys is worshipped as a goddess and as a daughter of R'hllor. The ending would reveal that R'hllor wins. Jon is remembered as a demon and a monster, and Daenerys is revered for the mass murder of King's Landing. The ending would hint how unfair/hypocritical this is, and that all Jon and Dany had been through had been a ploy to see R'hllor ascend to the highest planes of power.

~~END SPOILERS~~~

So yeah, it fell into grimdark. I don't want to write grimdark, and it wasn't fun anymore, writing knowing that this is the endgame. I do want to write dark fantasy and Jonerys, though. So, with that in mind, this is what I will do.

**The Future: A New Dark Fantasy Jonerys Fanfic**

I will outline a complete AU starting a few years before canon. It will be a dark high fantasy Jonerys, with a lot of magic. (A LOT of magic.) I'll try for a happier ending on that one. There's a fanfic on AO3 called Dragons of Ice and Fire by serpentguy, (read it if you haven't; it's great) and I hope to take inspiration from that story's tone.

I hope to see you guys on that fic. I want to thank everyone who read, commented, and bookmarked this fic. I'm sorry I let you guys down. I truly hope you guys enjoyed this story, and I hope to see all of you on the new one.


End file.
